


Love Wounds Us Like a Double Edged Sword

by Sebastinoodle



Category: Merlin (TV), bbc - Fandom
Genre: BBC, I didn't know how to write it, M/M, Merlin - Freeform, Merthur - Freeform, but shitty, kind of like a narrator, so enjoy, so i thought fuck it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-28
Updated: 2016-02-28
Packaged: 2018-05-23 14:59:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6120109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sebastinoodle/pseuds/Sebastinoodle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin has injuries. Leon somehow gets involved. Arthur gets grumpy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Wounds Us Like a Double Edged Sword

It's the last time he does this, ever. Well- okay, it might be a lie but he's not doing it again _today_. See, Merlin and Arthur, they've got this system. Call it a system- more of a non negotiable decision on Merlin's side.- that the two shall train together as to improve Arthur's swordsmanship, and to boost his ego whenever Merlin fell to the ground. Again. Repeatedly.

 

Our dazzling protagonist of this manipulated story is in the armoury, despite having the job of shining the young prince's sword, he had been tending to a scratch on his back instead. See- the training ground isn't just grass and mud, it's grit and tiny rocks too, so of course Merlin's bound to get injured. It's not his worst wound, the shield he holds, whilst Arthur continued to thrust and slice that blade towards him, it causes pain too. The round edges dig at the skin beneath his thin shirt, the weight knocking him back to the ground, and more than enough bruises have littered his skin.

 

But he doesn't tell our esteemed member of royalty, oh no, wouldn't want to cause trouble- ah, look at that! Look what's happening! Sir Leon has entered and seen the private wounds of his princes servant. What a twist- a twist indeed! He must keep it secret, surely? Merlin is acting stubborn and his shirt material now drapes the warlock's pale flesh. The argument is silent, yet- oh! Oh look at that, the outcome has been decided within a moment, Leon leaves the room. I know he's going to tell Arthur- I know it! Just you wait!

 

Right, sorry, got a little side tracked there- being a narrator is hard okay?! You get all these ideas and the story progresses without you- ah, right, back to the story! Leon left the room and Merlin isn't happy, can tell by the amount of elbow grease he's put into shining that sword and polishing that armour.

 

It's only hours later, after a pesky goblin had been set free- I've met one of those before, bloody asses, _never_  let them borrow your gold necklace because there isn't enough disinfectant in the world.- and reputations such as Sir Leon's, karma is quite the cunning mistress indeed, have been restored, is Merlin called to the chambers of our casually pompous prince Arthur.

 

Oh, if only you could hear it! And only if _I_ could hear it! Bloody facial expressions- Merlin looks like he's considering a permanent holiday to the Valley of the Fallen Kings, and Arthur looks like he just kicked a young maidens puppy. Honestly- narrating from over here for the past few years is like watching Uther and his hate for magic, drawn out awfully long and pointless. I'd be more useful if they just let me out this blasted realm.

 

Merlin's got his shirt off, well, _removed_  (courtesy of Arthur- bloody voyeurs, bet you're enjoying this) and he's got his backside perched up on the edge of a bed littered with silken sheets. Arthur's got his arms crossed and this look on his face- if you really stare, no doubt he looks guilty. But from where Merlin's sat, he looks like a disappointed Uther, too soon?- that he doesn't often show.

Guess he's seen those wounds and thought 'I have done this' or maybe he thought 'Why did he not tell me? I could have stopped!'.

 

There's no words, and it doesn't seem too bad. But it feels silent- and you _know_  silent has a feeling. Arthur's grabbing a rag and soaking it with unused bath water (a waste if you ask me, an entire bath, _unused_ ). And then he's knelt on the bed behind our beloved warlock and tending to those wounds- despite huffs of breath in protest.

 

Ah- there it is, the emotional stuff. I see a lingering touch or two- quite sure that bruises and the bone above his hip doesn't need _that_ much attention.

 

Now Merlin's got his head resting back on the blonds shoulder, voice quiet, a mumble really. Going on and on about 'Man like me, not worth the trouble' and 'Thought I was an idiot to you?'. Of course the prince isn't listening, wouldn't listen to such nonsense, and tended to his servants wounds.

 

They share a kiss, indeed they do, and from a distance they look so in love- yet a sadness lingers there; Arthur because surely his father would cast them both away, Merlin because of the secret he clutches so tightly to his left breast that it will soon shatter the surface and ebb at his heart. But that is my own interpretation of this story, for are we not all the narrators of their story- in one way or another? Or maybe an Orchestra that break the tune, so that we can dutifully ignore the conductor that is fate?

 

Never mind all that, the ramblings of a voice- the voice in your head, oh! I wonder what I sound like. A Grandmother telling a story to her grandchild? Gaius, perhaps? A whimsical old timer, or maybe a dapper gentleman who has experienced a life times worth of trouble? (As long as I do not sound like Uther, or the lady from the kitchens, then all is well).

Come along now, I think it would be wrong (as should you) to disturb the intimacy they share in private any longer. After all, a fate of one can only be blissfully denied by another for so long. 

 

fin.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed!  
> Comments, criticism and kudos appreciated!


End file.
